


Coming Home

by caffeinatedmusing



Category: Neverwinter Nights
Genre: Epilogue of sorts, F/M, First Time, Foster Family, Sarcasm, Smut, Team as Family, culmination of a slow burn that i couldnt be bothered to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-31 00:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12664239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeinatedmusing/pseuds/caffeinatedmusing
Summary: Ever since the knight captain's disappearance after the defeat of the King of Shadows, Sand has been searching tirelessly for her. Her return, as sudden and unlooked for as her disappearance, gives them the opportunity to settle some things between them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not so long ago, I got this old game up and running(sort of) on my current laptop for nostalgia's sake. Anyway, this is the ending I wish my poor character could have gotten after all she went through constantly having people attempt to murder her, betray her, and curse her. Aka a bunch of self indulgent smut and fluff.

_Cross the street. Dodge the knife sharpener coming by with his cart. Don’t make eye contact with the prostitutes on the corner. Avoid that puddle._

A strange fellow almost ran into him but stopped short. Sand muttered an insult, got an apology, and shouldered aside to continue on his way home. It wasn’t until he had rounded the corner that he realized what, precisely, had been strange; _a hag spawn? Not many around Neverwinter._

_Not that it matters._

Exhaustion dogged his steps these days, not curiosity.

The door shut and Sand locked it behind him, allowing his shoulders to sag. _Walk to the counter. Hang up the cloak. Dodge cat. Put keys away._

He made it to the base of the stairs without incident. Jaral had not run to greet him. _Odd. Where was that cat?_ He could sense the animal close by, in the building and not run off through the open window again. Sand brought it closed before he forgot. But for once he hadn’t tripped over his familiar on his way to hang up his cloak. 

Sighing, he tossed his keys onto the counter. He really should re-open his shop one of these days. The rent had gone up after the repairs to Neverwinter’s docks had been completed. But…. he just couldn’t summon the energy to care. 

He debated about making something to eat but on closer inspection his cabinets were rather bare and he couldn’t handle the thought of going back out to buy food. Duncan would ask how it had gone. Disappointment and numbing lack of progress in their search for Allia had worn him down to this; hiding from his few friends and allies. Besides, Duncan was drinking too much again, driving his customers away, not bathing, letting his inn fall into disrepair. It was too depressing. 

_They had won._ Why did this feel so much as though they had lost? Casavir dead. Zhjaeve had returned to her own plane without so much as an apology or offer of help. Elanee had returned to her swamp, promising to send out word to other druid camps. _Which yielded nothing._ Daeghun had returned some weeks ago, restocked, and promptly gone straight back out. _No word yet._

At least Sand didn’t need to try and maintain his composure under her foster father’s flat stare as he failed yet again to scry or discover _anything_ of use. 

He had been forced to admit that he had run out of ideas. Patience, which he had counseled to so many, his strongest virtue, was wearing thin. The finest mages and the best trackers Lord Nasher had to offer had all come to the same conclusion time and time again; she was simply gone. No remains. No trace. All they had was the sworn certainty of the dwarven monk who claimed to have seen gargoyles making off with her unconscious form. 

Weeks had stretched into months. The seasons where changing. He’d once loved the fall. Looked forward to it every year. The colors, the crisp musk of fallen leaves, the way the water turned dark and the sunlight bright. But somehow, the prospect of it now held no interest. He had dared to dream; something he had learned a long time ago _never_ to do. And he had lost. Knowing there would be no long walks holding her hand, no candlelit evenings lost in discussion over fine wine, no nights spent before the fire, no...

He snorted in irritation. This maudlin line of thought served no purpose. He had known better, hadn’t he? The risk of all they had fought against had been in favor of one or more of them dying. He had known, and still…. 

He busied himself getting Jaral’s dinner ready. A familiar and mindless routine. The clank of the bowl and spoon, the iron rich smell of chopped meat that wrinkled his nose, should have brought the little fur ball running. 

_Where is that cat? If he swatted my potions onto the floor and got himself stuck in the anti -theft ward again, I swear I’ll…_

He climbed the stairs, bowl of cat food in his hands. Past the door at the top. No cat.

He kept looking, around the corner to the living area. And stopped dead. He held still. Held his breathe. Held the bowl of food until his knuckles lightened. Because there, sleeping on the sofa, on his sofa, was Allia.

And Jaral; curled against her hip. His familiar looked up at him through eyes squinted in utter feline bliss as he purred; little toes spread and flexed as the cat kneaded at the blanket she had pulled down of the sofa’s back.

Slow, deliberate, Sand crouched down and set the bowl on the floor by his desk. He stared; eyes stinging, throat too tight, afraid if he blinked she would disappear. That she was an illusion. But…an illusion would have looked as he remembered her; she looked different. Thin. As if recovering from an injury or illness. Her hair was shorter, the long braid he had so longed to undo, slashed off above her shoulders, stray strands tickling the corner of her lips as she slept. But there was no mistaking the tiny wood elf. 

Cautious, he raised his hands and began to murmur, casting every detection spell he knew. No magic other than a few minor items; clothing or jewelry. That was normal enough. But… _No shard?!_ He checked again. Alright, that was quite different. No curses. She wasn’t possessed. Or undead. Or diseased. Or….

Jaral stopped his purring and _merfed_ at Sand, as if to say _‘Stop. You’re being ridiculous.’_

_Am I?_ Sand regarded his familiar. The spotted cat licked a paw to wash half his face, stretched, and then hopped down, bumping against the mage’s ankles on his way to eat. Clearly not a care for potential danger.

_So, it really is her._

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he moved until he sat there gazing down at that perfect heart shaped face. Fingers trembling, he reached out and brushed the dark hair back from her face. She turned into his touch. He cupped her cheek, relishing the warmth and softness, the reality of her. There was a small fresh scar across her eyebrow on that side. Long dark lashes fluttered as she came awake. Her slim fingers reached up to curl around his wrist. 

“Sand.” Her voice was sleep husky. “Hi.”

“Hello, yourself.” He didn’t sound as shaky as he felt. Good.

Refusing to let go of his hand, she shifted to sit up. Face to face, he fought the urge to kiss her. He stroked his thumb across her cheekbone, feeling the too- sharp shape of it. No telling what she had been through. She was clearly exhausted, to have fallen asleep waiting for him. The last thing she needed was him making any demands of her in regard to their relationship. He could wait. _Patience._

“You’re alive.” Her brown eyes shone with joy. Turning against his palm again, she pressed a quick, soft kiss to the inside of his wrist. 

His breath caught. And just like that, he was aroused. Heat flared beneath his skin and slid to coil in his belly. _How had she…? Was he really so touch- starved as all that? Well, yes, probably, but that still didn’t excuse…_ He broke off the internal argument. It was pointless. And his patience was about to go up in flames. Time to refocus. 

“Of course, I am alive.” Sand snorted faintly, shaking his head. “Whatever put the fool notion in your head?”

“Those awful gargoyles, they told me…” She bit her lip, not wanting to say it.

“Well, the deceitful creatures _did_ abduct you. They were hardly a trustworthy source. Now, I believe it’s my turn for a question. My dear, just _where in the nine hells have you been?_ ” Heart pounding, he tried and failed to keep his voice from breaking.

He heard the shaky intake of her breath. 

“Rasheman.”

His brows shot up. Well, that would certainly explain why they hadn’t been able to track her. Even if they had known, the witches guarded their borders, both magical and mundane, all too well.

And then the words were rushing out of her in a torrent.

“I was cursed, and I couldn’t come home until I got rid of it. As soon as it was gone, I came back. I didn’t know what had happened; how I got there. And I missed you all so much. But then being back in the city was overwhelming and all the memories…I haven’t even stopped to see Uncle Duncan yet. I just… I needed to know you were alright.”

“You came back alone?” He choked back the directionless anger at not having been there for her.

“No. My friends came with. They wanted to see Neverwinter. I told them not to say anything until I see them tomorrow. I promise, I’ll tell you all _everything_ , tomorrow. I only wanted one night of peace before I had to deal with it all. Is that too much to ask?”

He was going to tell her that no, it most certainly was not, when she leaned close, her nose brushing teasingly against his before cutting him off with a kiss. And then his thoughts were a whirl, scattered and lost to the soft heat of her lips. She pulled away with a devilish scrape of teeth, tugging his bottom lip. He chased her, leaning in for more; quick hungry nibbles and longer breath -stealing, tongue- stroking ones that left him dizzy and wanting. 

Allia sat back, licking her lips. “Sand, I love you. I do. But if you were about to tell me to be patient…”

“Mm. As I love you.” He felt the rush of those words overtake him. Gods only knew how long it had been since he’d felt this way about someone. Since he’d dared to say it. “I would suggest, given all that has happened, that perhaps we have been patient enough.”

A small smile tugged at her lips before she leaned in to kiss him again. He swept his hands down her back to her hips, pulling until she resettled over him.

They spent long moments kissing, tasting, breathing, touching. He nipped her bottom lip and made his way down her jaw to her throat; she leaned her head back with sigh. She worked his outer tunic loose and got him down to the shirt he wore beneath. His hands worked up under her loose thin blouse, kneading her hips and stroking up her back. She arched into him, her hips pressing, hands tangling in his hair as he mouthed the fabric over her breasts, teasing her nipples tight through the cloth. Her grip in his hair tightened and she groaned under her breath. 

Blood running hotter by the moment, he started on the buttons of her blouse, wanting her skin bare. She moved to help, making short work of it. The material was tossed to the floor. She tugged his shirt loose and pulled it up over his head, taking advantage of his momentary blindness to rub her bare breasts against him. As soon as he was free of it, he pulled her to him, tongue slipping in circles over her nipples before sucking each one. She gasped his name, nails digging into his arms. 

Shifting his weight forward, he pressed her back until she was under him, trailing his way down with his hands and following with gentle bites, kisses that left her tense and trembling. He paused at the ties to her leggings, pulling them free with his teeth before his hands removed them the rest of the way, caressing and stroking her legs as he did so; noting in passing the lighter lines of old scars.

She wriggled down under him, nimble fingers undoing the fastenings to his pants. He caught her hands before she could undo him. Settling between her thighs, he pressed kiss after kiss to the damp gossamer fabric of her panties, stroking his tongue across the silk and feeling her hips roll and how her thighs strained before he swept his fingers under the edge of the fabric and slid them into her wet slick heat, steady and then faster, watching her come undone. She was moaning now, panting and pleading with him to hurry. _Gods, she was beautiful._

_Just a little longer._

Curling his fingers, stroking her inside until she was arching up under him, fingers clenched in the blanket. He stopped then, his own tension too high, too close, fumbling to get his pants the rest of the way off. She sat up enough to help, hands slipping around his hips, his cock, sliding the last layers of clothing just far enough, before pulling him to her. Not willing to tolerate any more delays, he slid the fabric of her panties aside and pressed himself in with a groan that she swallowed into a kiss, biting his bottom lip to stifle her own cries as he thrust, building into the rhythm their need demanded. 

Her hips worked under him, meeting every lunge, her forehead against his as they moved faster, deeper; desperate, sweat damp, and glorious. Her climax hit, she bucked under him, helpless and reckless; head back, mouth open, calling his name. His breath caught at the sight of her and his release caught up to him; he broke apart, unaware of his voice calling out to her in return.

They drifted for a long while after in the euphoria, tangled up and comfortable. Eventually, they slept, wrapped up more in each other than in the blanket.

Around sunrise, Sand startled awake in confusion at finding himself not in his room. Then Allia shifted next to him, one hand stroking his side as she snuggled closer to stay warm where the blanket had slipped. Memories of the night before settled into place and he smiled, kissing her forehead. She made a pleased sound and tipped her face up so he could kiss her again, properly. And again, because he could. Hands began to wander as desire grew.

She was astride him, her mouth over his, his hands holding her hips as she moved slow and deep, taking their time, teasing each other with the buildup, when some rude soul saw fit to pound on the door downstairs.

“Were you expecting someone?” Lia frowned, pausing in her motions.

“I most certainly was not. Whatever oaf is out there will go away.”

The knocking came again, if it could be called that. Someone was banging on his door loud enough to wake half the neighborhood. Sand thought up several of the worst curses he knew in very short order, ready to cast.

“Sand! I know you’re in there. Open your damn door!” The man’s yelling would wake whichever half of the neighborhood his knocking hadn’t.

“Shit! Sand, it’s uncle Duncan!” Allia cursed and got up, searching for their clothes. “He’s not going to go away!”

Hopping about to get his pants back on, throwing on a shirt and hoping it _was_ his, then finger combing his hair into a ghost of its usual neatness, Sand scrambled to get downstairs before Duncan could break the door in. Lia wrapped herself in the blanket, scooped up the rest of the clothes, and disappeared into the bedroom. 

“Hold a damned moment!” He let the wards down, threw open the bolt, and wrenched the door open, making the best effort he could at intimidation. Being a wizard usually helped. Unfortunately, that had always been lost on Duncan, who had a head and half on him height wise and more than twice the weight. The innkeeper glowered down and shouldered his way in.

“Why are you in my shop? It’s closed, in case you missed the sign.” Sand pinched the bridge of his nose against the urge to summon an elemental to ‘escort’ Duncan back out. Preferably right off the docks and into the water.

“Get your beauty rest later, wizard. I have news. A traveler came in last night. Odd looking fellow, that. Anyway, he met up with one of them Red Wizards. Can you imagine! In my tavern.” Duncan shook his rant off and continued, “I overheard them. It’s Lia. She’s in Rasheman! Are you coming or not?”

Sand stared at Duncan for a long moment, until the innkeeper began fidgeting. 

“No.” 

“What do you mean, _no?!_ ” Duncan’s brows shot up. “I’m not blind. I saw the way you two started looking at each other after her trial, all those late nights and dangerous situations. I was an adventurer, too, I know how it happens. But if you abandon her now-”

“No, she is not in Rasheman. She _was_.” He clarified. 

Duncan frowned and opened his mouth to protest so Sand continued before he could.

“You are not the only one with news. Mine, however, is infinitely more reliable. As usual. Now, if you are quite finished behaving in your typical brutish fashion, I have something to attend to. As soon as all is ready, I will head over to speak to you. ” 

“Now, if you don’t mind?” He gestured towards the still-open door.

Duncan wandered out as if he was having trouble processing what had just happened. Sand slammed the door, locked it, reset the wards, and skipped steps on his way back upstairs. He found Lia still in the bedroom, half dressed.

“You heard all that, I presume.”

“Yes. Gann or Safiya must have said something.” She rubbed her forehead. “We should go over there before he gets angrier. I feel terrible for not telling him.”

“I thought we might head over for breakfast, but that was before he interrupted us.”

“Hm. He did, didn’t he.” She dropped the pants she was holding back to the floor. “Where were we…”


	2. Chapter 2

Breakfast, by the time they finally made it over to the Flagon, was closer to noon. 

Duncan had not been idle. He’d washed and shaved, cleaned a load of pots and pans that had been piling up, wiped off the counter, and was in the process of flipping pancakes as they walked in.

Safiya and Gann were seated at a table, tense and quiet. Khelgar was seated at the bar, arms folded over his chest, keeping an eye on them. The intimidation effect was somewhat lost, as Neeshka was leaning an elbow on his head, ‘helping’ him keep watch.

Sand stepped through the door first, meeting Duncan’s glare before stepping aside so Lia could run over for hugs. Duncan’s shock at seeing her was covered swiftly, although he held onto her long enough that it threatened the food preparations. 

“Your pancakes are burning.”

“Shite. Arse! Confounded things.” Duncan set to scraping at the blackening pan, trying to recover his cooking. He used the smoke as an excuse to blot at his eyes with a sleeve.

Khelgar hugged her near hard enough to crack every rib at once, lifting her up off her feet. Neeshka couldn’t stop grinning and kept ducking in for extra hugs in between everyone else. Safiya and Gann hugged her as well, Gann murmured an apology for being overheard as he did so. 

Sand’s eyes narrowed. He was picking up on some sort of magical aura coming from that one, although he couldn’t say for certain what sort it was. A fellow practitioner. Sand determined to keep an eye on him. Both of them.

“Well, now that everyone is here, let’s have it. Where have you been and just what in the hells are you doing with a Red Wizard and, and, whatever the hells he is?” Becoming a monk had yet to teach Khelgar any tact.

“Khelgar, you stump, you’re being rude. And we still have to wait for Bevil.” Neeshka smacked the back of the dwarf’s head and then promptly snagged two pancakes off his plate when he glanced away while rubbing the spot.

“Gann’s a shaman.” Allia made the introductions as they settled in for to eat. “And be nice. He and Safiya kept me alive and helped me get back here.”

“Ah, I meant no offense.” Khelgar grumbled a bit, but apologized. “It’s just that we’ve all been going out of our heads trying to find her. I want to punch whoever is responsible, but you’re the only ones here. Maybe I overreacted.”

“Well, you’ve missed out on the punching, I’m afraid. This little one beat you to it.” Gann smiled and gestured to Allia.

 _Definitely one to keep an eye on._ Sand stabbed his next bite of pancake harder than he had meant to. No one noticed.

They made small talk and ate until Bevil arrived, late, off an extra shift. Once he had gotten settled and fed, Duncan sat down with the last plate.

“Now, everyone is here as can be. I believe we were promised the tale, lass.”

Lia tightened her hands around her mug of tea. She and Gann and Safiya all glanced at one another. She chewed her lip a moment and then began to speak.

They took turns talking, elaborating on their own parts. It took a long time in the telling. Duncan had cleared away the dishes and the afternoon was fading into evening by the time the last parts were wrapped up. 

Everyone broke out with questions; until Sand reminded them that Lia would be due to speak before Nasher’s council and the rest of the Nine in a few days and would have to answer all the same and more again. Groans and grumbling ensued, but as he was technically correct, there wasn’t much they could do about it. 

A few early drinkers were coming in off the docks. Duncan got ready to get back to work.

“Just one question. You’re absolutely certain that that worthless, faithless, festering son of a bitch Bishop, is dead?”

“Quite sure. Yes.”

“Good. Then I can cross murdering him off my to-do list. I’ll go get a room set up for you.”

Lia tensed up and glanced at Sand. “I..oh, um, that’s …”

“She has a place to stay.” He reached for her hand, heart suddenly in his throat.

_This is sudden._

They hadn’t had time to discuss it. His time both in the Hostower and as a lawyer had given him ample practice at hiding his feelings. Still, his relief and joy when she placed her hand in his must have been visible to everyone.

“You shifty little viper.” Duncan rounded on him. “She’s been there the whole time, hasn’t she? That’s why you were so cross with me this morning.”

“Leave him be. I asked him to cover for me.”

“ _Cover for you?_ Do you think I was born yesterday?” Duncan arched an eyebrow at them.

“Come on, uncle. I’ll help with the dishes.” Lia took the last stack out of Duncan’s hands and headed back to the kitchen, leaving him to stare at Sand with a thoughtful and slightly sly expression.

“What? No more insults? No tired and pedantic threats to my person?”

Duncan’s sly expression sharpened. He leaned down to look the wizard dead in the eyes, dropping one meaty hand onto his shoulder. His grip tightened. Sand was reminded in that instant that Duncan had survived his own host of adventures, and beneath his currently doughy innkeeper’s physique, was still quite strong.

“You’re with her now? That makes you kin, or near enough. Which makes you Dhaegun’s problem, if you ever hurt her. And he is a far better and more patient hunter than I’ll ever be. How’s that for a threat?”

With one final squeeze that dug his fingers painfully into Sand’s shoulder, he grinned and followed Allia.

“Quite sufficient.” Sand swallowed hard and resisted the urge to rub his shoulder.

Khelgar and Bevil fished into their coin purses and paid Neeshka a sum. 

“What’s all this?”

“We had a bet going.” Neeshka shrugged and pocketed her earnings. “I won.”

“I see.” Sand felt a headache coming on. “I’ll save us all the time and embarrassment of asking what about.”

“So, Lia tells me you’re a wizard.” Safiya chose to change the subject. “She has been one the best students I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching.”

“You…you’re teaching her magic?” 

“We both have been.”

“I see there is more to this tale than I’ve been told thus far.” Before long the three were embroiled in a discussion that took them well into the evening. 

He and Allia walked home through a lavender and blue dusk, a crescent moon rising above the rooftops, waves lapping at the docks. Shore birds muttered sleepily on the moorings and ship ropes creaked. Somewhere towards Blacklake district, a bell tolled the hour.

Sand unlocked the door and turned to take her hand. 

“Welcome home, love.”

Lia smiled and stepped inside. And just like that, everything was perfect.


End file.
